Dick's little brothers
by mayleebaby28
Summary: I got such a good response to 'Little Bothers' that I decided to expand on it. Dick helps his little brothers through everyday problems. Rated T for some bad language thanks to Jason Todd.


Damian tossed and turned in his bed. He woke with a start, his dreams vivid in his mind. The thought of his own face above him, beating him until he was impaled and the life left his body.

He was dead. He was murdered by his own hands.

Damian felt his breath quicken. Nightmares had haunted him since he had woken in his father's arms. He felt the pains in his body. Even with his superhuman abilities, he was still healing. He still had bandages all over his body. He gently touched the most tender one on his chest.

He tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, but the images were so vivid in the darkness. Nothing he did made them go away.

"Dami?" He heard a soft voice calling his name. He opened his eyes – his vision was blurred with tears. When had that happened? – and saw Dick standing in the door way, his hand on the doorknob.

"Damian? Hey, are you crying?" He asked, opening the door more.

"No. Don't be stupid, Grayson." Damian sat up in bed, sniffed, and crossed his arms stubbornly.

"Why are you crying?" Dick asked.

"Shut the damn door, Grayson. I don't want anyone to hear me." Damian snapped.

"Did you have a bad dream, Dami?" Dick asked as he shut the door quietly.

"I don't want to talk about it." Damian said angrily. Dick watched him for a moment. He was just a stubborn, angry, and hurt 10-year-old. He had lost his mother, and while they never had a great relationship, Dick knew how that felt.

He had also gone through something Dick couldn't imagine. It was something only Jason would understand, and even so, Damian was only a child.

"Talking about it might help, Dami." Dick said, leaning on the door.

"Don't call me that." Damian mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest carefully.

Dick pushed off the door and strode to the edge of the bed. He sat down beside Damian, who didn't acknowledge that he was close, which was a good sign.

"He was killing me." Damian sighed. "I was killing me."

Dick shifted closer to put his arm around the young boy.

"My own face. My own hands. Ending my life." Damian curled into himself.

"You're safe now, Dami." Dick pulled his ball-of-a–baby-brother into his arms. Damian rested on his mentor. "I'll never let that happen to you again. As long as I'm alive, you'll be safe. I promise."

"How can you promise that? We put our lives on the line every night. I could die tomorrow." Damian said quietly.

"I can promise that because you were my Robin first. I won't let my protege down." Dick said, rocking gently.

"Father didn't protect me." Damian blubbered.

"Dami, Bruce did everything he could to save you. We went to the ends of the universe to get you back. Your dad did everything he could to bring his baby home." Dick rubbed Damian's arm.

"'m not a baby." Damian mumbled.

"No. You're a hero. But you're still our baby bird." Dick hugged Damian tighter. He looked down to see Damian's eyes fall closed. Dick waited a few minutes until he felt Damian go limp in his arms. He gently laid him down on the bed and watched as he breathed, relieved to see his chest go up and down.

"I love you, Dami." He brushed the hair off of his face and kissed his forehead.

Dick tried to sneak out of the room, but Titus lifted his head to look at him. The two stared at each other for a moment before Dick put a finger to his lips. Titus lowered his head back down to continue his slumber at the foot of the bed.

* * *

"Jason, what are you doing?" Dick asked, waking up to see Jason in full Red hood attire, minus the helmet, sitting on his dresser.

"As much as I don't want it, I need your advice." Jason hopped off of the dresser and began pacing the room.

"You're in my apartment." Dick watched him walk back and forth.

"I met this fancy chick when I was on my way back home from the store. She was lost and some gang was crowding around her so I scared them off and she wants to take me out to dinner to repay me." Jason rambled, hands gesturing wildly.

"I'm not wearing clothes." Dick said, still blinking in confusion.

"And I've never dated a rich bitch. I don't do high society." Jason ignored his older brother.

"How did you get in here? You don't have a key." Dick glanced at his bedroom door, still closed.

"Hello? Problem here! Are you even listening? You need to get a higher tech lock on your window." Jason stopped to clear up some confusion, waved Dick off, and then resumed pacing.

"You broke into my apartment on a Saturday morning? What if I had a girl here?" Dick asked, flushing with embarrassment and anger.

"Ha! Good one." Jason laughed.

"Can I get dressed before you invade my personal space?" Dick asked, grasping the sheets in his hand.

"Yeah, whatever." Jason paused before heading for the living room.

Dick sighed before swinging his feet over the side of the bed. He was planning on sleeping in on his day off, but that was out the window now. Or in the window, he corrects himself.

He goes over to the window above the dresser and sees that, somehow, Jason unlocked it from the outside. He made a note to see if Bruce has a better window lock. Burglar and Jason proof.

Once he's dressed, he joins Jason in the living room, where he has gotten some cold pizza from the fridge and had his feet up on the coffee table and was watching the news.

"Are you comfortable?" Dick asked.

"Eh." Jason shrugged, taking another bite of pizza.

"So what is your problem?" Dick asked, sitting on the other end of the couch.

"This high society chick wants to take me to dinner as a thank you for stopping a bunch of guys from raping her in an alley." Jason explained again.

"And the problem is?" Dick asked.

"I don't do high society, Dick. But she's hot as all hell, and free food." Jason shrugged again.

"So what do you need from me?" Dick asked, looking at the news screen.

"Teach me how to be a priss." Jason said.

"I'm not a-" Dick started to fight back, "Ugh, whatever. Fine. Well first, who's picking who up?" Dick asked.

"I'm picking her up." Jason said, changing the channel.

"In what?" Dick asked.

"In a fucking blimp, Dick. What do you think? My car." Jason glared at him.

"Where are you guys going?" Dick ignored the jab.

"Some hoity toity restaurant. Suit and tie kind of place." Jason shrugged again.

"Do you have those?" Dick asked.

Jason was silent.

"Well. I'll be damned." Jason said after a minute of thought.

"How do you not have even one suit?" Dick asked.

"I haven't needed one since I died." Jason explained.

"Fine. You can borrow mine. Now, how are your table manners. Have you forgotten everything Alfred taught you?" Dick asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"My table manners are fine. I don't remember what the fuck that tiny fork is for." Jason pointed out.

"Shrimp. It's a shrimp fork, Jayce." Dick sighed.

"And how do I talk to her? I haven't had to be paraded around in years." Jason asked.

"You talk to her like a person. But no swearing. You're smart, Jason. You can bullshit your way through a dinner." Dick said.

"She's a nice girl. I don't want to disappoint her. Plus, I'd like this date to end in sex. It's been a while since that happened." Jason changed the channel again.

"You wouldn't take her back to your apartment, would you?" Dick asked.

"What am I, stupid? I live in a shit hole. If it ends in sex, it'll be at her place." Jason jabbed the remote.

"You'll be fine, Jayce. You should take Babs with you. Stick an ear piece in your ear. She'll be able to know if anything goes wrong and steer you in the right direction." Dick suggested, reaching for the coffee mug on the table. He sniffed it before taking a sip.

"Hey, that's actually a good idea. Why didn't I think of that? Thanks for letting me borrow your girlfriend, Dickie Bird." Jason sprung to his feet and walked past Dick, ruffling his bead head.

"She's not my girlfriend." Dick sighed. "Where are you going?" Dick asked.

"Got to get ready for my date." Jason said, heading for Dick's bedroom.

"Suit's in the garment bag in the back of the closet." Dick shouted, watching what Jason left on.

"Thanks, Dick head!" Jason shouted back.

"Jason! I have neighbors." Dick scolded. He didn't hear anything in response. He got up and cautiously went to his room.

It was empty. The window was wide open, and the red helmet, which was sitting on the dresser was now gone.

"The things I do for that boy." Dick sighed, shutting his window.

* * *

"Drake has been in his room for three days. Father is concerned." Damian said over breakfast one day. Dick had come over to help Bruce with case work early that morning.

"Three days? Doesn't he come out to eat?" Dick asked, pausing to take a sip of coffee.

"Pennyworth has been leaving a tray outside of his room for each meal. But we've never seen him grab it. I'll see food there one moment and then a half an hour later, I see an empty tray." Damian explained, putting a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

"Hm. I wonder what he's been doing in there." Dick mused to himself.

"Father tasked me with getting him out today." Damian explained.

Dick didn't miss the little smirk on Damian's face. He feared for Tim's safety. He also feared for what the manor would look like once Tim and Damian were done trying to kill each other.

"Has Bruce tried yet?" Dick asked, raising his eyebrows in question.

"Every day he knocks on the door and asks if Drake is alright. All Drake does is make some small noise like a hum or scoff. Father takes this as an answer." Damian said.

"Let me take a crack at it first, Dami. I'd rather you both live to see tomorrow." Dick ruffled Damian's hair, ignoring his snarling and shouts of 'don't call me that!', and left the boy alone in the dining room.

He made his way upstairs until he found himself at Tim's room. Tim had moved out, but Dick was sure that he had an odd brand of separation anxiety. He stays at the manor most of the time. His apartment was mostly for show.

He gently knocked on the door.

"Tim? Hey, can you open the door?" Dick asked. He heard Tim sigh in annoyance.

"Hey, Bruce is worried about you. Come on. Let me in." Dick said. He heard a chair shift, then tired footsteps, and finally the door opened to reveal a disheveled Tim Drake.

Dick stood there and stared at him for a moment. He was wearing black sweat pants and a Nightwing t-shirt, which he was slightly flattered about. Tim's face looked like he hadn't slept in days and he was nursing a black eye and a busted lip. His hair was sticking out in odd ways that looked like he had spent three days trying to pull his hair out.

And he_ reeked_.

"Ugh, Tim, have you showered at all?" Dick asked.

"No time. I'm in the middle of something." Tim said, walking away from the door, leaving it open for Dick. The younger boy went back to his desk and hunched over the various papers scattered around the surface and floor.

"What are you working on?" Dick asked, carefully avoiding the clothes on the floor as he stepped into the room. Tim was never messy, he was exceptionally neat. He must have been on the verge of something important.

"Case work. I have seventeen cases here that I suspect are connected." Tim muttered.

"On what grounds?" Dick asked, leaning over Tim's shoulder.

"These three people were killed in a similar pattern. A shot that missed but then stabbed until dead. And these five were all stabbed with the same type of knife as the first three. And these nine were all shot with the same model gun." Tim explained, pointing to various papers covered in highlighter.

"Any evidence?" Dick asked.

"Not a hair." Tim responded, burying his face in his hands for a moment.

"Tim. You need sleep." Dick said, comparing two pages.

"No sleep. Too busy." Tim grabbed one of the pages back and put it beside another with similar colors on it.

"You're not going to be able to work much longer without sleep. You need to shower and sleep, Tim." Dick said, looking down and trying to figure out how close Tim was to connecting these cases.

"I don't need sleep. I have coffee." Tim explained.

"Tim." Dick slammed his hand down on the desk. Tim glared up at him.

"I'm working." He said coldly.

"If you don't get some sleep, you're not going to be able to focus. Just a nap. Let me fix you up. You look like hell." Dick said.

"Fine. One nap. One short nap. I have to finish connecting these cases." Tim groaned. He went over to his bed and flopped down.

Dick went to the adjoining bathroom and ran a rag under warm water. He brought it back and began to dab at Tim's lower lip.

"Ow." Tim mumbled.

"Sorry. Did you even let anyone look at this when you came home last?" Dick asked, lowering the rag and looking at Tim's black eye.

"No. I had to get to work." He explained, yawning.

"Ugh. Tim. You need to brush your teeth." Dick cringed.

"Shut up." Tim mumbled, rubbing his good eye.

"Get some sleep, Timmy." Dick said, setting the rag on the table.

"Just for a few minutes." Tim said, laying down and curling into a ball.

"Whatever makes you happy." Dick pulled the blankets up to cover Tim. The younger boy nuzzled into the blankets and within seconds he was fast asleep.

Dick smiled down at him, remembering his knack for falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

He went over to the desk and straightened the papers into a neat pile. He capped the markers and set them on top of the stack. Once the desk was clean, he put all the clothes into the hamper in the bathroom.

The room looked a lot better already. Dick smiled at his work. He checked Tim one last time and tucked the blankets around him a little more before sneaking out of the room to tell Bruce 'mission accomplished.'


End file.
